


Shadow of the Colossus

by orphan



Series: Frankenstein and the Newt [4]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Kaiju Newton Geiszler, M/M, Post-Kaiju War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:20:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan/pseuds/orphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Dude. I don’t want to fight a Jaeger. I know I have a three-foot dick”—this is a slight exaggeration, it’s more like two and half, but—“I don’t need to try and prove it to Larson in his bullshit pissing contest.”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow of the Colossus

**Author's Note:**

> [And I ride and I ride](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nAON-MwUPY)...
> 
> Plot plot plot plot too much plot not enough porn IMO. Needs more porn. What even am I doing with my life?

It’s a dumb comment that starts it. In the mess. Newt’s been coming up a lot more since Lena’s visit, if only to spend time with Hermann. It’s not like the mess serves anything he can eat, or anything he particularly wants to eat. He remembers the things he used to love as a human—chocolate, strawberries, sour gummies—but none of them smell, or taste, appealing anymore. So whatever. He doesn’t miss them.

Hermann does miss company at dinner, however, although he doesn’t really notice until Newt starts providing it again. There are a lot of old memories there, of being alone and lonely, hiding in corners at school to avoid the roving gangs who would prey on any kind of childhood weakness. Hermann had thought himself beyond that, but Newt can feel the comfort as he takes his seat next to Newt. Two freaks, eating alone together.

“—why everyone’s so scared of them. Big bitch went down like a rock. Boom! Right into the bay.”

There’s just one problem, Newt thinks, about eating in the mess.

“Hardly even put up a fight. Bring more on, let’s fuckin’ go.”

And that’s having to listen to other people.

Newt feels the ripple of irritation run down his flanks, a flicker of bioluminescence he doesn’t manage to quash. Hermann is talking, something about the h-field again, and Newt’s trying to listen, he really is, but—

“Triple Event nothing. I’ll take down four, five even. No contest.”

—but Larson is _such_ a dickshit.

“I dunno, man,” says one of Larson’s jackass buddies. Some hanger-on j-tech nobody. “The Newt put you through the floor pretty easy the other month.” Okay, Newt takes it back; maybe there is hope for j-tech.

But Larson just scoffs. “Whatever. I’m a fucking Ranger, bro. I don’t fight kaiju in hand-to-hand. I fight ‘em in a Jaeger. And I’d like to see that freak show little runt take on one of those.”

* * *

Later, much later, the comment is still bothering him. It’s stupid, he knows. Newt’s kaijin, not daikaiju. He can’t take out a Jaeger any more than a meathead like Larson could take out him in an even fight. Larson couldn’t even beat him in the dojo ring, with Newt weighted down with all the bullshit dojo rules like “no spitting”. If Larson wants a rematch, Newt’s happy to provide it. And Larson better bring a fucking welding mask, lest he wants acid right in his pretty little meathead face.

It takes Newt nearly three days of this—of the deep sense of itching aggravation, of angry, violent _hurt_ —to realize the feelings aren’t even his.

They’re Hermann’s.

“ _Holy shit.”_ He’s not sure whether to be stunned or relieved. “ _It’s you! You’re the one who wants me to burn off Carter Larson’s face! Dude!”_ Relief, Newt decides. It’s definitely relief. He’s a pacifist, particularly when it comes to humans. It is very, very important that he stays that way.

Hermann shifts, obviously uncomfortable. “I… do not,” he snaps, unconvincingly. “The man is a braggart and a bully. I merely… I dislike bullies.” Shame. Hermann tries to push it down, but Newt feels it. Feels every accompanying flash of memory, of being small and crippled and alone, of being hurt and harassed. At forty, Hermann Gottlieb is a genius and a war hero, a man instrumental in the continued survival of humanity, married to one of the world’s most beautiful women, father of a doting and vibrant daughter. At fourteen, Hermann Gottlieb was… not those things. At fourteen, Hermann Gottlieb was easy prey.

“ _Dude,”_ Newt says. “ _Larson’s a nobody. Outdated tech for yesterday’s war. Don’t let him get to you.”_ He noses against Hermann’s side, feels arms slip around his head in return.

“He said cruel things about you.”

“ _Dude. Don’t care. Totally, don’t fucking care.”_

“I can tell when you’re lying, Newton. Your glow changes.”

“ _Note to self: No poker.”_

A pause. Just the feel of Hermann’s hands, running over Newt’s brow, and of Hermann’s mind, churning something fierce. Then:

“He’s wrong, you know.”

“ _Dude, it’s Larson. That goes without saying. Jackass wouldn’t know ‘right’ if he Drifted with it.”_

Which earns him a brief snort, then: “Specifically, in this case. About you battling a Jaeger.”

“ _Dude. I don’t want to fight a Jaeger. I know I have a three-foot dick”_ —this is a slight exaggeration, it’s more like two and half, but— _“I don’t need to try and prove it to Larson in his bullshit pissing contest.”_

“I think you might have to.” Hermann pats Newt’s head. “Let me up. There’s something I should show you.”

* * *

What Hermann should show him is a schematic of Gipsy Danger. The new one. Newt is vaguely aware it has a different name, but he’s never actually heard anyone use it. Even Raleigh and Mako still call it “Gipsy Danger”, so that’s good enough for Newt, whose interest in Jaeger has only ever extended to how close they were able to get to kaiju.

It takes Hermann about half an hour to explain his plan, though only about five for Newt to get the gist of it. When Hermann finishes, Newt says: “ _That… seems like a bit of a design flaw, dude.”_

“I’m working on countermeasures.” Hermann is pacing around the projected schematic, scowling furiously, light reflecting off his glasses. “But the Jaeger were, are, built to fight daikaiju. There are some… assumptions in the design based on that.” He looks so fucking hot. Intense Nerd Hermann is right up there in Newt’s top ten favorite Hermanns, along with classic hits such as Aggravated Hermann, Peacefully Sleeping Hermann, and Fucked-Out Hermann. Newt is planning on seeing that last Hermann very soon, in fact. A guy can only take so much STEM-talk before his own stems need some—

“Newton, for god’s sake pay attention.”

“ _I am,”_ says Newt. He’s paying attention. Just… not to what Hermann wants him to.

Oh, fuck yeah. There’s Aggravated Hermann. If Newt is very lucky, tonight he might get an entire bingo row.

“I asked you whether you thought you could do it?”

“ _Your dumb plan?”_

“Newton, I know you’re doing this deliberately.”

Guilty as charged. “ _Yeah, yeah. I can do your dumb plan, dude. You’re gonna have to talk the Marshal into allowing it, first.”_

“Yes, well. I assume I’ll have your help to do so?”

Newt leers, leaning forward through the projection, long tongue lashing. “ _Maybe. What’ll I get in return?”_

Hermann does the whole prissy librarian, peering-over-the-top-of-his-glasses thing, and Newt feels every inch of his skin shudder at the sight. “The next hour,” Hermann says. “To do whatever you want.” Accompanied by the mental images of some suggestions. They are not PG rated suggestions.

Newt’s got a whole bunch of tentacles, squirming in his abdomen. He holds them in. Barely. “ _Two hours,”_ he counters.

The corner of Hermann’s lips quirk. “Very well. I accept your offer.” Somehow, Newt feels he’s been played. Somehow, he can’t bring himself to care.

* * *

Some number of hours later (a fair few more than two, then more again counting showering and napping and a repeat performance), they find Raleigh and Mako.

“You,” Raleigh says to Newt, once Hermann’s explained why they’re here. “You want to fight Gipsy Danger?”

Newt gives some thumbs up.

“No offense, man. But you’re kind of tiny. We’d squash you.”

“He’ll just have to be fast enough that you won’t,” says Hermann.

“Okay, sure.” Raleigh still looks dubious. “But how’s he gonna take us out? And how much will the repair bill cost?”

“No repairs necessary,” Hermann says. “And no injury to yourselves.” They’re not explaining the exact plan, of course. That would ruin the surprise.

Raleigh opens his mouth as if to protest, but is cut off by Mako.

“We’ll do it. What do you need?”

* * *

What they need is all four of them in Marshal Hansen’s office, explaining the set-up. When they’re done, he gives them The Look. Newt’s used to The Look. He gets The Look a lot, in contexts like “you want to Drift with what?” and “hive mind who?” and “stabilization how?” and “it talks!”. Because Newt is used to The Look, so is Hermann. Which means he delivers his lines flawlessly, as prim and prissy as he can manage.

“Doctor Geiszler and I believe we’ve found a critical flaw in the design of the Jaeger.” As if Newt had anything to do with it. But whatever. “As you know, they were built to counter the daikaiju, but since the success of Operation Pitfall, our adversaries have changed tactics. For now, Doctor Geiszler is the only stable kaijin on Earth, and his loyalties are very much with us. But we all know it’s only a matter of time before our adversaries are able to mass-convert hive mind-connected kaijin at scale.” Such bureaucratic words for such an ugly process, but this is why they let Hermann do the talking. “Doctor Geiszler and I believe that, when we see the first kaijin outbreak, we will simultaneously see the opening of a new, likely temporary, Breach. Earth will then need to defend itself on two scales, both the macro and the micro. The truth is, Marshal, the Jaeger have served us well on the macro scale, but that has lead to… complacency within the Corps when dealing with the emerging, micro threat. I believe a practical demonstration in which Doctor Geiszler is able to disable a Jaeger by exploiting its own design against itself will go very far to quashing said complacency.”

Hansen scowls at them, bright eyed and sharp. “This is about Ranger Larson, isn’t it?” he says. “Talking shit in the mess.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” Okay, so Newt shouldn’t play poker, but apparently Hermann can. Damn, but that was stone cold.

Hansen sighs. “How much is this pissing contest going to cost in repairs? I assume you’ve got a budget for me.”

“Yes,” says Hermann, handing over a tablet. “But for the exercise deployment only. I assure you no damage will be done to Gipsy Danger, and no harm will come to its pilots.”

“You’re telling me you think Newt can take down a fully mobile Jaeger, with no damage, in”—Hansen flicks his eyes down Hermann’s numbers—“less than half an hour?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.” A pause, then. “No offense, Newt.”

Newt just shrugs.

“I assure you,” Hermann says. “It can be done. And if Doctor Geiszler can do it, any hive mind kaijin will be able to use the same tactic. Perhaps with greater ease, given they won’t be hampered by some of Doctor Geiszler’s constraints.” Like not hurting Raleigh and Mako, and not spitting acid straight into the Jaeger’s joints.

“Whatever you’re planning,” Hansen says, “it sounds like one hell of a design flaw.”

“Yes,” says Hermann. “It is. I’m working on proposals for countermeasures and will share them with j-tech after the demonstration.”

Hansen’s eyes flick up. “Is that blackmail, Hermann?”

Hermann does a very good job of feigning prissy offense. “Marshal! I simply see no reason to cause undue expense retrofitting our fleet unless we can demonstrate conclusively the threat is real.”

“Uh huh. Nice try. And you two”—he points at Raleigh and Mako—“how’s the Brains Tryst bribing you to go along with their scheme?”

“With all due respect, sir,” Mako says, “if what Hermann believes is true—”

“Then we’d rather find out in a controlled demonstration in the bay with Newt,” Raleigh adds.

“Than out in the field with the enemy,” Mako finishes.

Marshal Hansen makes a “hmph” sound, lacing his hands and staring them down across his knuckles. He looks down at the budget figures, then up again. Then he points to each of them in turn. “You. You. You. You. You’re all mongrels. Now get outta my office. Apparently, I’ve got a deployment to arrange.”

* * *

Said arranging takes about two days, mostly because they end up putting in a bunch of safety stops to Gipsy Danger’s weapons systems.

“Just in case,” is Mako’s explanation, eyes bright and smile broad.

There are… quite a lot of weapons on a Jaeger, as it turns out. Quite a lot of weapons designed to hit something three hundred feet tall. Or something twelve feet, caught in the crossfire. By the second evening, it’s occurred to Newt that, should things go wrong, he might actually die. Mako and Raleigh won’t intentionally try and kill him, but he remembers the number of bugs and worms he’s squashed by accident, sometimes while trying to save them. He thinks of Gipsy Danger’s fingers in place of his, his own body in place of a worm, iridescent blue gushing over dark metal.

“ _This is a dumb plan,”_ he tells Hermann. “ _A dumb, terrible plan. Only you could come up with a plan this bad.”_

Hermann sends him a memory. Newt as a human, bloody-eyed and siezuring.

“ _That was a fantastic plan!”_ Newt snaps. “ _That fantastic plan made your dumb plan work!”_

“Was this before or after Slattern tried to eat you? I always forget the timeline.”

“ _Oh my god. It was Otachi, not Slattern, she was just curious, and that is not the point. You’re such a jackass!”_

Hermann huffs, looks up from his laptop. “Newton, tomorrow will go perfectly. You will perform exceptionally.”

Newt hunches over on himself, plates shifting. “ _You’re sure of that, are you?”_

Hermann smirks. “Of course,” he says. “After all, you’re Doctor Newton Geiszler. You’re a rock star. How else could things go?”

“ _Jackass.”_

* * *

Demonstration day.

And Newt, standing on a pontoon in the middle of the bay, staring up at Gipsy Danger. All three-hundred-ish feet of Gipsy Danger. And Newt has stared down Otachi but Otachi was kind of a croucher. And it’d been kinda dark and whatever and, fuck. She’d felt big but here, today, standing straight in the sunlight, Gipsy Danger feels like the biggest fucking thing in the universe. There’s probably some wicked ironic parallels going on right now but, honestly, Newt is not in the mood to contemplate them. He’s sure he’ll have plenty of time to think about that later, once the photos start circulating.

Because, yeah. That’s also a thing; there are at least half a dozen drones flying overhead, and every single person in the Shatterdome, watching from the beach. Newt’s pretty sure there are also a few private yachts, out beyond the cordon, trying to figure out what’s going on. Great.

Above him, Gipsy Danger starts to move. Putting both hands together in a bow. Newt returns the gesture, then tries not to pass out as the Jaeger shifts into a fighting stance. The wake from the motions sends Newt’s pontoon bobbing, the roar of motors and servos is almost deafening. This was such a stupid idea. “ _I hate you,”_ he tells Hermann. “ _I hate you so much.”_

Hermann is much calmer than Newt feels he has a right to be, sitting back on the shore, eyes closed, experiencing the sensations by piggybacking on Newt’s consciousness. He’s awestruck by the Mark-6 Jaeger’s construction, mind a veritable spreadsheet of tedious technical specifications Newt cares exactly zero about, right at this very moment. He can also pinpoint every weakness, every misaligned joint and poorly-calibrated servo, which does interest Newt and will definitely interest the poor j-tech crews Hermann is going to skin alive for imprecise work, as soon as this is all over.

On the shore, a siren sounds. That’s the cue to start, and Newt has exactly half an instant to think so before a shadow falls over him and Gipsy Danger’s enormous hand is headed his way.

He gets off the pontoon, into the bay, and an instant later the water behind him explodes as the Jaeger’s fist slams into it. Newt’s a strong swimmer, but not that strong, and the wake sends him spinning through the water, until his back smashes into sand. The force leaves him winded, but he has no time to recover, not with giant arms and legs filling his vision, flailing through the surf and churning the water into a storm.

Newt panics. He was right. The is a stupid idea. There’s no way Mako or Raleigh can see him in the water. They could tread on him and never even notice, and Newt would just be a thin slime of Kaiju Blue, another monster defeated, yay for—

He gets a flash of memory from Hermann. A thousand futile attempts to swat flies, to catch them. Newt gets it; he’s the fly. He’s smaller and faster and he’s smarter, too. He knows what he has to do. Now he just needs to do it. He _can_ do it. Hermann knows he can.

“ _Okay. Okay, dude. I get it.”_

He swims. Fast. Just a grey and blue blur, shooting through the murk. With the clarity of Hermann’s calm, Newt finds he can follow Gipsy Danger’s movements with ease. The Jaeger is so big, scaled for speed, yes, but a speed exponentially bigger than the one Newt is operating on. The Jaeger has inertia, more so in the water, and Newt knows that’s his in.

It’s the walking motion, in the end. He needs to get onto the Jaeger itself, to scale up its hull. The easiest way, he knows, is by the feet. Gipsy Danger’s walk is slow, and every time it steps, its back foot has to stay planted in the sand.

Newt moves like a minnow, darting between the huge fingers that scoop the bay, trying to get a glimpse as he passes. He gets caught once, metal cupping around him, water pouring out as the world lurches upwards. The wake pushes him back, against the Jaeger’s palm, and he thrashes for one panicked moment, trapped in the swell. Then the hand breaks the water’s surface, a second descending from the sky, but by the time the two come together Newt has already gone. Back claws kicking off the metal and lunging into the safety of the bay.

He takes the opportunity, darting between the Jaeger’s massive legs, even as a hand plunges back to find him for a second time. He avoids it, exhilaration kicking in over the fear. He can do this.

And when his claws close around the huge strut that makes up Gipsy Danger’s Achilles’ tendon, he knows it’s over.

* * *

The Jaeger are built for a lot of things, but acrobatic flexibility isn’t one of them. There’s a path, running up the back of every Jaeger, that the machines can’t reach with their own hands. It was never considered a design flaw because it’s not like they get itchy and no one ever thought the Jaeger would be fighting anything small enough to fit entirely within the zone.

Newt is small enough.

He’s small enough to fit and dexterous enough to climb, hauling himself up on the same handholds designed for techs and maintenance crews. It’s not an easy climb. For starters, it’s wet, but mostly, everything around him moves. _Everything_. An OHS nightmare of pistons and servos and other things Newt has no names for and Hermann has too many. He really could be crushed, even with the path Hermann has mapped. The safest path, within a calculated value of “safe”. Right up the middle of the Jaeger’s back, headed for the base of the neck.

There’s a console there, hidden underneath a plate. It’s an emergency eject for the Conn-Pod, there in the event of such a total system failure that a rescue crew have no choice but to eject the pilots manually from the outside. It’s designed in such a way that it can’t be triggered accidentally by damage or by force, only by a particular sequence, entered in by human hands.

The sequence isn’t complicated. And it’s written on the hull. It is, after all, designed for emergencies. In theory, any passing stranger should be able to use it. Today, Newt is that passing stranger.

Gipsy Danger is still searching for him in the water when he reaches the console. Newt tears off the external plate and gets to reading the instructions. The sequence requires two hands to operate and that would be difficult, while gripping onto the outside of a moving Jaeger, if it weren’t for the fact that Newt has four. He enters in the sequence, feels the thrill of elation from Hermann.

There’s a moment of nothing, then a noise halfway between a hiss and a small explosion. A few seconds later, something splashes down into the bay, and the Jaeger falls still.

* * *

“Newt! You did it!”

He finds Mako and Raleigh, floating in the bay, trying not to drown in their suits. Mako gives him a hug as soon as she can reach, so happy for his success that Newt can’t help grinning.

“Glad it was you, man,” says Raleigh. “Good work.” He holds up his hand for a high-five, and Newt returns it.

Then they both grab onto the raised fin of his dorsal plate, and he swims them back to shore.

* * *

They’re greeted by stunned silence on the beach; no one sure how to react to what they’ve just seen. Hermann is there, of course, looking (and feeling) incredibly pleased with himself, and so is Marshal Hansen. Newt accepts a handshake from the Marshal, then another hug from Mako. She’s so incredibly pleased that some of her enthusiasm rubs off on the other pilots.

“What we’ve seen today,” Marshal Hansen says, “though it may not look it, is a demonstration of our power. We are all citizens of Earth, and we have one true and everlasting strength. It is the thing that has allowed us victory after victory against those who would try and take our planet for their own. That strength is our difference. We are not the same, in thought, in appearance, in background. And yet, when we fight, we fight with common purpose. We thrive when we take our disagreements, our diversity, and use them to forge new paths and new ideas. Today, you have seen the results. A joint effort between Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb, and Rangers Mori and Becket. Because they were able to come together, to put aside ego and prejudice, we are now able to identify and correct a critical flaw in the design of our Jaeger. One that, if not for today, could have caused serious loss of life. Doctors Gottlieb and Geiszler were not only able to identify and successfully exploit this flaw, but Doctor Gottlieb has already submitted a proposal for its remediation. As Marshal of this institution, I’m grateful to have the privilege of overseeing such dedicated individuals. Remember what you’ve seen today. And remember that Earth is stronger for it.”

* * *

The Marshal has decreed it: the exercise was a success. After the speech, which Newt thought was okay but that practically had Hermann in tears ( _“Nerd.”_ ), they get mobbed by enthusiastic pilots and j-techs. There’s a lot of back-slapping and hugging and “holy shit that was so cool” and so on, and somehow they all end up in the mess, raiding the stores of beer. Any excuse for a party, after all, and an inspiring speech from the Marshal is a better excuse than usual.

Newt doesn’t drink beer, but does demonstrate his ability to eat the bottles afterwards, much to the approval of a large and increasingly drunken crowd. Newt slaughters all comers at doubles table tennis (multiple arms, sobriety), Hermann at pool (maths), and the various counties trade drinking games until the Marshal walks in with a, “What’s this rules bullshit? You’re all soft!” and introduces a “traditional Australian drinking game” which, near as Newt can tell, involves simply putting out a line of shots and slamming them down as fast as possible until someone either finishes or passes out. Hermann is pretty good at that one, too, much to the surprise of every non-German in the room, although he gets knocked out by the Russians and Norwegians, who end up in a final showdown with the Marshal for World’s Least Responsible Drinkers.

When Newt finds Hermann in a corner, later, explaining theoretical physics to a red-cheeked and fascinated Mako, he decides they need to go home. Not to cast aspersions on Mako’s interest in physics, but Hermann is lecturing in German, which Mako doesn’t speak, and getting answers back in Japanese, which he doesn’t speak. Newt picks them both up in his big arms, and spends the entire distance back to Mako’s dorm listening to her tell him something that would seem to be incredibly important and deeply earnest, if only he could understand a word she’s saying. (Newt’s Japanese, while nominally better than Hermann’s, still really only extends to phrases he’s picked up from anime. And hentai anime at that. So… not always the most useful, conversationally speaking.)

He drops her off at her door, and she kisses him thankfully beneath the eyes. He gets another earnest lecture about… something, and he signs, “Arigatou. Oyasumi, Mako-chan.” Which is about all he knows in JSL. Mostly because Mako taught him.

“Oyasumi, Newt-kun,” he gets in return.

Hermann is legit passed out by the time Newt gets them back to the room. Newt strips him down, then endures the grumbling when he wakes Hermann up enough to down three glasses of water and two ibuprofen. Then it’s bedtime, and the day is over.

Tomorrow, they’ll both wake up with hangovers.

* * *

“Hey. Um. Doctor Geiszler?”

Newt’s really not in the mood. Hermann has a killer headache from last night, which means so does Newt. He’s sulking in the lab pool for a reason, and has literally negative numbers worth of desire to deal with Carter fucking Larson

“Um. Do you… do you have a moment?”

No. No, Newt does not. Except Larson isn’t leaving. Is kind of just… standing there. Looking… awkward. And young. Really, really young. The guy must be all of twenty-nothing. It occurs to Newt to wonder if he was ever that young. He’ll have to make a note to ask Hermann later. Hermann will certainly have some kind of lecture about Newt’s idiot twenties.

Today, circa age forty, Newt just huffs, and levers himself out of the pool enough to sign, “Fine. What do you want, Larson?”

Larson blinks. “Oh,” he says. “Um. I don’t, um. I don’t… The hands thing.” He gestures, and Newt isn’t fluent in Asshole-SL but he knows enough to know what Larson means.

Newt points, to the desk behind Larson, snapping his fingers as he does so. Larson jumps a little, apparently not so tough re. having a kaiju claw next to his face when not in his Jaeger.

Still, he gets the gist. “Um. You mean this?” He holds up a keyboard—wireless, waterproof—and Newt gestures for him to bring it over, then points at the display it was sitting under. Yeah, he’s done this song and dance routine before.

The display is on an articulated arm, and Larson arranges it so he can see and look at Newt at the same time. It’s an oddly… considerate gesture, which is why maybe Newt decides to tone down the unfriendly welcome. Just a touch. He is, after all, supposedly the responsible adult here.

_what brings u into the monster lair kid?_

Larson shifts, eyes darting around the lab, through the schematics and into the preserving jars. All the usual crap they’ve let pile up over the years. “Um,” says Larson. “I just… I was talking to Ranger Becket last night. About, um. About the kaiju. The one we, um. From the other month.”

_aurora  
_ _she has a name_

Newt expects some kind of… something in return for this and is surprised when all he gets is a nod. The an awkward pause, then: “I, um. I was just a little kid,” Larson blurts, “on K-DAY. Not even in school. So, I guess… I mean. I’ve never… y’know.”

Newt nods, because he does know. _Never known a world without the War_ is the end of that sentence. He knows the type. The K-Generation, because as if they were ever going to get another name.

“We’re from Tennessee,” Larson continues, as if Newt has any idea where that is. He lived in the States for like a decade and still has no fucking clue about the geography. “And, I mean. We knew about what was happening out west. Everyone did, y’know? But it just seemed… really far. Far away. Like it was happening to someone else. The War was just something that worried Mom and that Dad complained about. Because of the refugees or whatever. Jobs and stuff.” A shrug, like NBD bro. Monsters are coming out of the sea, but heaven forbid any _Californians_ head east looking for shelter.

“Anyway,” Larson continues. “I was, like, six when they sent out the first Mark-1s. I remember watching, on TV… like, we _never_ watched TV, right? But we watched Brawler Yukon. Saw it walk out and take down that thing in Vancouver—”

_karloff  
_ _i told u they have names dude_

Again, he expects some kind of shit in response, and is surprised when all Larson does is look vaguely embarrassed.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, Karloff. We watched… Like, the whole street did. People cried, when it”—a brief glance to Newt—“when it didn’t get back up again. Cried, cheered…”

_i remember  
_ _i was there too_

At MIT, in fact, about to attend one of the most epic faculty parties in the history of time. Not to mention one of the few occasions in Newt’s usually aggressively straight-edge life in which he’d had gotten completely and utterly wrecked. For _days_. It’d just… seemed the thing to do. He’s still missing a good forty-eight hour chunk of memory, though the super-fun bout of chlamydia afterwards was kind of a clue as to what’d gone down.

“Right, right, of course.” Larson nods. “Anyway, I just… The Rangers. They were like gods, y’know? I was six years old and I’m like, ‘Fuck, that’s what I wanna do when I grow up.’”

_potty mouth!  
_ _for a 6 y.o._

Larson laughs, awkward but there. “Addi, she was the same. She was, oh man. She was so into Caitlin Lightcap it wasn’t funny. Like, I swear to god she had a picture under her bed she used to kiss every night. Like, full-on making out.” A pause. “But, um. Don’t tell her I told you, hey? She’ll fucking kill me.”

_blackmail  
_ _noted_

Larson’s eyes go very wide. “Dude! No, don’t. You don’t know Addi, man. I’m not kidding. She’ll get creative with it, too. Like, oh man. I’m dead. I’m totally dead.”

Newt grins, just a little. Just enough that the glow from his teeth reflects in the dark water of the pool. Larson’s eyes lock onto the sight like a warhead.

“Um.” Larson blinks, then keeps blinking. Like if he does it enough his eyes will stop staring at Newt’s teeth. “So. Yeah. I mean… okay. Fair’s fair. Lightcap was Addi’s hero. But, I mean. Okay. _Totally_ don’t tell him, but… But Ranger Becket was mine. I mean. Everyone had one, right? Someone from the war.”

_yamarashi_  
_used to have him tattooed on my arm  
_ _back when i had arms that could be tattooed_

Larson’s surprise fades into a grin. “Right,” he says. “Yeah. Yamarashi. That was Gipsy Danger’s first kill, right? With the…” He makes a gesture around his head.

_he was  
_ _still got bits of him in the lab somewhere_

Larson does laugh. “Kinda creepy, bro.” Then, when Newt just shrugs. “So yeah, anyway. When we, um. After Aurora, I was… I was feeling pretty fucking special, you know? First of the new Mark-6 Rangers with a confirmed, um”—another quick look at Newt—“takedown. And with Ranger Becket back on base I was like, okay. This is my chance, right? I mean, I’ve always just been the rookie kid, but now I’m, like, basically a real Ranger. So, I found him. After the, the thing, y’know? To, I dunno. Give my condolences or something?” He has the decency to look embarrassed. “Pretty stupid, in retrospect. And, um. Ranger Becket. He, ah…”

_i can guess_  
_protip kid  
_ _never meet ur heroes_

Newt won’t lie: sometimes he still has nightmares about Otachi’s tongue.

Larson might not’ve narrowly escaped a Frenching from a daikaiju, but he still winces. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you’re… you’re not wrong. So, um. Ranger Becket. He had some, um. Some words. Like, y’know. Real talk, whatever. And… he asked me, he asked why I thought we took down the— took down Aurora so easy. I said, y’know. We’re Mark-6s.” He gives a laugh, self-depreciating. “And Aurora, she was, what? A Cat I?”

_something like that_

Larson nods. “And Ranger Becket, he said… He asked why I thought that mattered. Like, I’d just seen you, um. No offense. But I’d just seen you take out a Mark-6 on your own. And you’re, like. I dunno…” He trails off, as if suddenly aware he’s being an asshole.

_serizawas for daikaiju_  
_not applicable to kaijin  
_ _we dont have a scale_

Not yet, anyway. Or, rather, not one they’ve publicized. Newt does have an equivalent, in his head. It has Hermann on one end (human-passing, minor chimeric splicing) and him on the other (full physiological replacement). He hopes he never has to publish it, even as he knows he almost certainly will.

“Right.” Larson nods. “Anyway. Ranger Becket, he asked me if I’d read the report. About Aurora. And… I kinda. I hadn’t? So, like. I did. Last night.” Which, yeah okay. Now that he mentions it, Newt doesn’t remember having to avoid a drunk Larson at the party.

_and?_

Larson scowls, a thinking scowl, tongue pressed between his lips. Finally, he says, “What did you mean. In the report. About Aurora… about it being depressed?”

Newt sighs. Right. This.

_when ur not using the jaeger, u put them away in the bays yea?_

“Yeah.”

_okay_  
_so imagine that_  
_except_  
_the jaeger are all alive_  
_sentient_  
_they know what they are and whatever_  
_they can talk_  
_think_  
_all that stuff_  
_except like 99% of their lives is just sitting in these tiny bays all day_  
_just… waiting_  
_and one day, one of the jaeger_  
_she maybe notices the guy in the next bay_  
_maybe he’s got like a cute paint job or whatever_  
_and she thinks_  
_yeah, id hit that_  
_totally wants some netflix and chill_  
_or whatever it is u kids do these days_  
_cept she cant exactly get to him_  
_so she just sits there and thinks about it_  
_and then one day_  
_her pilots come along_  
_and they’re like_  
_ok gurl_  
_u can go free_  
_but first you have to fight in a big competition_  
_because only one jaeger can be free_  
_and the only way to find out which one is for all the jaeger to wail on each other like fucking highlander until there is only one_  
_and our jaeger shes like ok sure w/e_  
_and she goes to the big rumble_  
_and she smashes the shit outta everyone_  
_except the last guy shes gotta fight?_  
_is the paint job guy_  
_and so she kills him too_  
_even though she doesnt wanna_  
_and she earns her freedom_  
_but shes all alone, and suddenly she realizes that_  
_and all the shit piles up, like whats the point?_  
_oh hey theres like cool shit here in freedomland but she wants to show it to paint job guy  
_ _but she cant cuz she killed him_

Larson reads all of this, quiet and scowling. When Newt’s fingers stop rattling across the keyboard, he says: “You’re talking about Aurora. This… she’s the ‘Jaeger’.”

_yea_  
_cept for the part about “girl” and “boy”_  
_we kinda slap pronouns on em but kaiju sex/gender doesnt work like that_  
_and before u say anything_  
_because i can see u thinking it_  
_i will remind u i can spit acid  
_ _and im a pretty good shot_

This is actually not true. Newt’s a terrible shot, but Larson doesn’t need to know that while he’s busy replacing his shit-eating grin with a look of contrition. “Sorry,” he says. Then: “How… how do you know all this?”

_how do u think dude?  
_ _she told me_

“She hesitated,” Larson says. “In the bay. She was just… staring at the ‘Dome.”

_we were having a chat  
_ _was trying to get her to go back out to sea_

This is perhaps the most flippant way Newt’s ever described such an emotionally and physically traumatizing experience. Which is really saying something, given some of his life. But he doesn’t want to relive the whole ordeal any more than he has to, not with Larson in the room. Or, like. Ever. He still sometimes wakes up to the sound of Lena screaming.

Larson thinks for a moment. Then: “My dad, he used to be a cop. He, um. Sometimes they’d get people. Just regular people. And they’d go out and do something. Something dumb, y’know? And Dad would show up, and… and the people, they wouldn’t go down quiet. They’d get violent. Pull a gun. Like they wanted Dad to, y’know. Shoot them.”

_suicide by cop_

“Yeah.” A pause, and Newt lets Larson put two and two together on his own.

Eventually, Larson says, “I guess… I never really thought of them like that. The kaiju. As having, I dunno. Personalities and shit.”

_they do_

This, Newt knows, is not entirely true. It’s more like the kaiju have the _potential_ for “personalities and shit”, assuming they can be peeled away far enough from the hive mind. Newt’s done it to himself. He can do it to someone else, too. He has to believe that.

“And you can… talk to them? Through the hive mind thing? Like… like a Drift?”

Newt, who has the dubious privilege of being the only person in the world to experience both a kaiju Drift and a direct connection to the hive mind, shakes his head.

_not really  
_ _but close enough_

Larson nods. “Why don’t they teach us this stuff in the Academy?”

_idk  
_ _tbh i didnt know they didnt_

This is true. The last time Newt paid attention to the Academy curriculum was when he went through it, and even then only barely. It occurs to him that was nearly fifteen years ago, and that things have changed a little since then. He has absolutely no idea how much of said change has managed to filter down the pipeline.

Not much, judging from Larson’s expression.

Newt decides to be charitable:

_i imagine cuz it makes them harder to fight  
_ _easier to kill something if ur not worried about its little monster hopes n dreams_

It’s not a rationale he likes, or agrees with, but he can see it.

“Do… do you think we were wrong?” Larson asks. “To kill Aurora?”

_no more than any of the others_  
_its them or the city_  
_when we can split them from the hive mind reliably  
_ _then i guess i can be madder about it_

Newt pauses for a moment, fingers hovering above the keys. Larson is doing the scowling thing again, eyes focused very intently on his boots. Newt watches him for a moment, then thinks _fuck_ , so loudly and clearly it startles Hermann, who’s trying to shave four floors away.

Newt types:

_its a shitty situation and u didnt make it_  
_u just trying to stop ppl getting killed_  
_i get that_  
_i guess… sometimes im an asshole about everything  
_ _but…_

He gestures to himself, and, there? How’s that for being a fucking grown up? Boom. Nailed it.

Larson smiles, small but genuine. “That makes two of us,” he says. “I’m… sorry. For, y’know. Talking shit. Um.” He holds out his hand. “Sorry, man.”

Newt accepts the handshake. So fucking adult. He should be in the running for another Nobel prize. The peace one this time.

“So, um, I was thinking,” Larson adds. “I mean, I know you’re busy and stuff. But, if you’ve got some time. I think maybe some of us could do with a refresher course, y’know? On kaiju? Someone to go over the shit we missed at the Academy. Me and Addi could get some people together. Um. If you’ve got time.”

Newt doesn’t, not really. But:

_sure dude  
_ _sounds fun_

This time, Larson’s smile is big and bright and real.

**Author's Note:**

> [You live in sin to win](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3K8D0_qfp6g).
> 
> So, here's a thing: Hermann and Newt are both, a) older than me (in-canon years), and b) younger (by absolute age). That's... a thing. Huh.
> 
> Larson got character development so that obviously means he needs to die at some point. Sorry not sorry, dude.


End file.
